


My Thoughts on You

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is So Done, First Kiss, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Soft Richie Tozier, Songwriter Richie Tozier, Teenage Losers Club (IT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Because of course Eddie had to have seen it, and of course he’s gonna say something about it in a way that Richie can’t avoid without being even more suspicious than before.He isn’t exactly sure how he can get more suspicious than he already is, caught red handed in the worst way. Sappy, I-need-you love songs named after him kind of way.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 165
Collections: Anonymous





	My Thoughts on You

**Author's Note:**

> The song that Richie writes is actually My Thoughts On You by The Band CAMINO! I recommend listening to fully understand!

RICHIE lays on his bed, his cell phone in his calloused hands, pale from the lack of sun exposure thanks to the cool winters they’d always experienced in Maine. He was partially texting Eddie and partially working over some lyrics to a new song, hardly paying any attention to what he typed out to his best friend.

For a while now, Richie had been pining over Eddie. The boy was small and cute, always wearing dull colors and big jackets, smelling like spice from all the sugar-free cinnamon gum he chewed in place of using an inhaler.

He was still 5’5 even at sixteen years old, and he’d recently went blonde which made him look far more unique in the small town of Derry. He developed so much since he was a bumbling middle schooler — not so much in height, but definitely in personality and appearance.

Richie could almost envy him; he’d still dressed in bright colors even if he refined his style more, and he still had crooked teeth and glasses and messy hair. And, even if his jokes had gotten admittedly better, he still told them at the worst times, accidentally passing up levity and going straight for insensitivity.

It wasn’t that his and Eddie’s dynamic changed, per say, but something did. It was clear that they were closer in a different sort of way, trading out pushing each other around and wrestling to gently laying their head on each other’s shoulder or gingerly putting a hand on the other’s arm.

Often Richie wondered if, with this change, Eddie’s feelings on him had too. Except he wasn’t even sure that Eddie liked boys, and he only knew that he wouldn’t totally hate Richie for being gay himself because of the fact that Eddie was a giant fan of Shane Dawson in 2018 and stood up for an openly-bisexual boy in their biology class.

After he tapped out a couple lyrics to his newest work-in-progress, a little banner popped from the top of the screen showing that Eddie had sent another message, and he tapped on the notification as quickly as it came.

**eds <3:** yeah, i really want a ukulele for my birthday but i know i’m gonna lose motivation to learn it //:

**rich:** ill teach u eds <3

**eds <3:** NO THANKS. YOU SUCK.

**rich:** </3 i’ll have u know that my songs rock!

**eds <3:** proof?

Richie tapped onto his Google Doc, the particular document called, simply enough, ‘ _songs!’_ , and copied the link to sent to Eddie. As he pasted it and hit send, he thought over the songs fleetingly, but it was too late either way.

Besides, he’s written many songs, but none of them really were explicitly about Eddie. He knew internally who he was writing about, but he strayed away from any compromising lyrics. Just in case one day the songs were good enough to put out in the world.

He clicked back to Google Docs after sending the message, continuing to type out lyrics for his current song. There weren’t too many songs in there, maybe fifteen or twenty, so it wasn’t five minutes until Eddie was texting back saying that he was partially through.

He even admitted that they were pretty good so far before going back to reading, and Richie opened the outline to see where Eddie was at in the document only for his stomach to drop. There was a song called Eddie. A really, really gay song. He tries to quickly delete it but before he gets the chance to, a call pops up on his phone.

From no other than Eddie, because of course he had to have seen it, and of course he’s gonna say something about it in a way that Richie can’t avoid without being even more suspicious than before.

He isn’t exactly sure how he can get more suspicious than he already is, caught red handed in the worst way. Sappy, I-need-you love songs named after him kind of way.

A song that said things like, “Between the fights, I still need you,” and “I fell for your eyes.” So yeah, way too gay for the person who is reading it to see that the title is their name.He processes it, reprocesses it, and then notices that the call has ended on its own before he could click accept or decline.

And he knows it’s no secret or anything. It’s completely, one hundred percent there. There’s no denying it, saying he made it up on the spot for jokes, because you can tell that he thought about what he wrote and related it to his friendship with Eddie.

Because he argues with Eddie all the time, playful banter more often than not, but it’s still clear how often he depends on Eddie. That much is obvious to everyone, including Eddie. What wasn’t so obvious was where they breached platonic feelings and fell into the romantic category.

And it’s all there. Because Eddie doesn’t realize how much Richie feels for him, and how much he hides and pretends not to feel because he doesn’t deserve to feel it. He doesn’t deserve to love Eddie so much, to have the honor of Eddie Kaspbrak being his first love. So he tried to deny them, act like they’re not real, and it’s all there.

Eddie tries to call again, and it’s 3 pm so there’s no pretending tomorrow at school that he just fell asleep, but he doesn’t answer anyway and switches his phone into do not disturb so that he isn’t overwhelmed by the vibrations of Eddie’s texts as well as his calls.

He rolls over onto his back, phone left face down against the light colored sheets of his bed. His heart pounds fiercely as he tries to come up with some half-assed excuse for why, but none of it explains why he’s so afraid, why he’s avoiding Eddie. He knows he’s just stalling the inevitable at this point.

Because Eddie was blind to Richie’s feelings — he admitted that in the words he clicked out in the document when he wrote the song a couple weeks ago, and he still knew it as true. He could faintly hear his mom downstairs making dinner, but he hardly processed the noises, his heartbeat too loud and distracting.

Maybe the pounding of blood through his veins is why he hadn’t recognized the sound of someone knocking on the door or scaling the staircase until the knock was gentle against his bedroom door. Eyes trained on the ceiling, distant with anxiety, he assumed it was his mom and quietly said, “Come in.”

The hinges creaked as the door opened, and he rolled his head over to see Eddie standing there, tucked in his denim jacket and black jeans and too-big t-shirt. “Oh!” Richie says, startled, sitting up so fast that it makes him a bit dizzy, “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie responds easily as he clicks the door shut behind him, seeming almost as anxious as Richie, bouncing on his feet a bit as Richie watched carefully from the bed. Eddie lived just a few houses down, which meant random visits when he felt like it, but he knew this wasn’t just a random visit. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I know,” Richie breathed out, more like an exhale than a formation of actual words, and then he does a double take and shakes his head, saying, “I mean— you called?”

The response he receives is a small, almost nervous sounding laugh from Eddie, which shows that his attempt at an alibi has fallen about as flat as many of his mom-jokes back when he was twelve or thirteen. Eddie’s eyes shut as he sways, still in front of the door that he’d shut behind him.

His pink tongue darts out to lick at his chapped lips, which he always bites and picks at a bit too much when he’s nervous. His fingers, hands much tanner than Richie’s, slip into his own back pockets as he looks across the room at Richie.

“You — um,” Eddie says, nervously stammering, face reddening the longer he remains there. His shoulders slump a little bit and he shakes his head, eyes clamping shut. Richie wishes he knew how to comfort Eddie, or what is coming next, or what Eddie feels. He wishes he knew anything, because he’s sitting there terrified.

And, really, a lot of outcomes could become reality. Eddie could be fine with the crush and just be telling Richie that he accepts his sexuality, or he could be telling Richie that he isn’t comfortable being his friend anymore because he doesn’t want a boy touching him and liking him at the same time.

“Fuck this,” Eddie says, and Richie flinches a little bit at how sternly it comes from his mouth, and he can’t read any emotion in his eyes because they’re firmly closed. His hands, always as vocal as his words when he’s speaking, move up to run through his hair. “How do you feel about me, Richie?” He asks, “Because I think I know and then I have no idea and I just — tell me, Richie! How do you feel about me!”

Richie wants to speak, wants to know the words to say what he feels, but instead he just gapes over at Eddie, likely looking just as idiotic as he feels. Part of him doesn’t even know how to say how he feels without it being too much, and that part of him is enough to keep him quiet.

Eddie breathes heavily, as if he just sprinted for fifteen minutes straight, hands away from his hair and clenched down at his sides as he stares at Richie carefully. “Was it a joke?” He asks, and his voice is softer than expected, “Yes — Yes or no, Rich?”

There’s a pause where neither of them say nothing, and then Richie chokes out, “No.”

“I fell for your eyes,” Eddie says, and there’s a beat where they just stare at each other, and Richie can’t focus on that because he thinks about everything, and then fleetingly about the lyrics he wrote in the fourth verse — ‘ _my thoughts on you hit the ceiling_ ’ — and he knows that they’re still as real as when he wrote them a few weeks ago. “You — You said that, I... What did you mean?”

Richie’s mouth finally moves, if only to shut so that he can swallow thickly as he stares at Eddie, and then he shifts on the bed and the springs of the mattress squeak, the only noise besides their heavy breathing. “You know what I meant,” Richie chokes out, sounding as if he hadn’t spoken for years, unbelievably raspy, “I meant all of it. You know that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes a bit, but it’s teasingly, and it makes Richie’s heart ache of nostalgia even as he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to feel. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t know,” He says, and he sounds a bit raspy as well, and it’s kind of ridiculous, but not enough for Richie to laugh.

There’s a pause where Eddie seems to be in thought and Richie’s heart aches with confusion, because he has no idea where they go from here, with something of a half-confession and a lot of silence.

Then, he walks over to the bed and gently sits down next to Richie on the springy mattress, so close that it makes Richie nervous enough to shift away just a bit.

“So, you’re like, into me? Romantic styles?” Eddie asks him, cringing at his word choice but seemingly not backing down. He watches, head turned slightly but eyes fixed on Richie, as he nods his head nervously. Eddie blinks a bit slower than usual, and his eyes focus somewhere at the corner of the room. “Okay, I,” He begins, shakily inhaling, “I feel the same way. Romantic styles,” Richie opens his mouth to speak and Eddie quickly interjects as he turns to face him, “Full serious, one hundred percent. So don’t ask if I’m joking. I’m not kidding.”

“Okay,” Richie says, because he has no idea what’s going on or if anything is real and all he knows is that he loves Eddie, and that he probably looks like an idiot with his jaw slack and eyes wide but he can’t help it.

Eddie turns fully to him, sighing sharply and rolling his eyes, pale hands which hardly hung out of the jacket moving to rest against his leg where it was folded onto the covers. “Can I kiss you?” Eddie asks, seeming almost burdened at Richie’s inaction, and as soon as Richie nods his head Eddie is pushing himself up so that he can lean over and comfortably connect their lips.

Despite knowing that it was coming, Richie still audibly gasps as soon as their lips connect, feeling something like sparks all over his skin, as if every inch of him is pins-and-needles. He also feels numb, physically numb, except for where their lips meet.

Eddie is just gentle enough for it to be noticeable as his small hands move up to hold onto the back of his neck, and it’s obvious that he’s inexperienced but it’s not bad at all, just majorly chaste. And Richie isn’t complaining because it’s Eddie, and it’s him in a way that was never expected.

Richie doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and it ends up that one of them rests behind him to support himself on the bed while the other holds Eddie’s forearm in a vice grip. They inhale together when they part, and Richie thinks it’s a possibility that he could just die right there from Eddie’s kiss.

“Eddie,” Richie says, and it’s enough, because Eddie is all he knows how to say and Eddie is also just all he knows, period. His brain whirs but it’s all just, _Eddie Eddie Eddie,_ and it takes a moment for his hand to pull away from Eddie’s forearm but he only uses the new freedom to hook his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pull him into another kiss.

And he feels so much for Eddie, things that he never thought he was even allowed to feel. Since before he’d even accepted his sexuality he’d felt things that he’d denied, and he thinks despite the stumbling and the fear regarding his sexuality, he still didn’t regret any of it while Eddie’s lips were pressed against his own.

Because it could be any girl in the world to make out the stereotypical romance expected of him, but none of them would make him think and feel as much as Eddie does.


End file.
